


Warm me up, and breathe me

by mofumanju



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Host Clubs, M/M, What should I tag, they do the do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mofumanju/pseuds/mofumanju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hasumi-san, it’s a pleasure,” and the corners of his lips bend in a soft, sincere smile, so charming that the man in front of him steps back just a bit, his ears flushing red as he opens his mouth like a fish without air. <br/>“The pleasure is mine,” he mumbles, and Eichi finds him absolutely <i>adorable</i>. <br/>Sometimes, he wonders how it would be to kiss those lips. But he isn’t allowed to. <br/>And he hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm me up, and breathe me

**Author's Note:**

> This thing is to blame on Allie because she made me do it - and I was happy to.   
> In which Eichi works at a host club, Keito has fallen since the first time and everything is slightly awkward because Eichi is... well, Eichi. There might be mistakes, english not my first language, blablabla  
> Enjoy! And for any complain please refer to @mofumanju on twitter ♥

Eichi smiles, while he wears his uniform and fixes his hair. He looks at his best today, his plastic, fake smile ready to shine among young ladies and gentlemen requesting for his presence, ready to make them fall in love with him.   
He wonders if he will come today as well.

“Hasumi-san, it’s a pleasure,” and the corners of his lips bend in a soft, sincere smile, so charming that the man in front of him steps back just a bit, his ears flushing red as he opens his mouth like a fish without air.   
“The pleasure is mine,” he mumbles, and Eichi finds him absolutely _adorable_.   
Sometimes, he wonders how it would be to kiss those lips. But he isn’t allowed to.   
And he hates it. 

He started to work as a host because he was bored, mostly. His father told him to get a job, because it would have helped him to learn how to be responsible for himself and his own actions, but he never told him that Eichi couldn’t decide what to be.   
So he took the funniest way, or so it seemed at that time. He’s stuck now, between reality and a dream in which he is loved and requested, in which girls look at him with dreamy eyes and call him “Emperor” - he managed to become the most popular among the hosts of the district, so popular that now it’s difficult to wander across the streets without being recognised. Eichi Tenshouin, the Emperor of Yumenosaki, the most well-known host club of the city. Girls, he said, but there is also a large amount of young men coming to see the miracle of the club, the angel that makes anyone fall at his feet.   
Sometimes he laughs, thinking about the list of adjectives used to describe him. Not that he doesn’t agree, but still. He doesn’t care about his clients - well, he cares about them when they enter the club and ask for him, of course, but that’s because it is his job, nothing more, nothing less.   
He doesn’t care, except for one.  
Hasumi Keito seems absolutely out of place, when he enters the club and blabbers his name to the assistant; he is one of the few men that frequent that place, and he is the only one who constantly asks for Eichi. And Eichi feels glad every time.  
He doesn't have to pretend, with Keito. Maybe it’s because they are the same age, maybe because Keito doesn’t look like he really wants to have fun - not as the others want to, at least. He spends a lot on alcohol, but they barely drink it. Rather, they lose themselves talking about so many topics that Eichi feels… enriched, when he puts off his uniform and turns into a normal man again.   
He wishes he could meet Keito outside the club but he doesn’t know where he lives, or what he does for a living. So, he gets up from bed everyday and waits for the evening to come, so that he can meet that man and feel satisfied again.   
More or less.

He has a nice scent. Wood and plum tree, delicate like the brush on his cheek his mother used to give him before he went to sleep. He doesn’t smile often, he doesn’t stand out, he’s nothing special, if you don’t get to know him a bit - Eichi knows, because that was the first thing he noticed when their eyes met on that day of two months ago.   
He’s totally different from the clients he is used to entertain. He doesn’t visit just to tell him that he is the most beautiful creature his eyes have ever seen - thinking about it, Eichi doesn’t remember a single time in which that man showed any kind of appreciation for his body. A news, a surprise.  
He grew fond of him, day by day, because yes, Keito visited every day, still does, and it’s special, their relationship, because Eichi meets several people every night and still, his mind is focused only on Keito, only on those bright green eyes framed by some old fashioned glasses.  
He wants to know more about him.   
He wishes he met him outside that place.

Keito pours red wine into their glasses, handing out one of them to Eichi. He takes it, losing himself just a bit on the sweet scent, on the deep red of the drink before taking a sip. It tastes good, like every wine Keito pays for when he books him.   
He wonders how much money he has already spent on him.  
“I don’t know what kind of work you do for a living,” he says suddenly, while the glass meets the table with a gentle jingling. Keito raises his face and looks into Eichi’s eyes and before he talks, he adjusts his spectacles over the bridge of his nose.  
“You never asked.”  
The room is filled with the happy chitchatting of the other hosts in the room, who talk to their clients about the most frivolous subjects. On the other hand, Eichi feels strange, his head a bit light, probably because of the wine he drank too fast. He feels hypnotized by the face of the man he has before, by his Adam’s apple sticking out of his throat and moving at each sip of wine that Keito takes. When he starts to talk again, Eichi is not sure to be able to follow.   
“My family has a proficuous business. You don’t really need to know everything else.”  
“So you’re rich?”  
“So it seems,” and Eichi knows that there’s something implied in that statement: if Keito wasn’t rich he wouldn’t be able to put even a foot inside the club.   
“So you’re rich,” he repeats, taking the bottle of wine and pouring another glass for Keito, “and you waste your money on me.”  
“It’s not a waste.”  
The answer comes so fast, so clear, that Eichi stops with the bottle at mid-air.   
“Excuse me?”  
He doesn’t reply. He simply clears his voice, and invites Eichi to rise the bottle before wine splits everywhere. But Eichi smiles, looking at Keito’s cheeks turning red like roses blooming in spring. He wonders if the feelings he has for him are reciprocated, or if it’s just because of the wine, that Keito seems so smug.  
He wants to know.  
“Hasumi-san, your words flatter me very much, if I can be hones-”  
“Please drop it.”  
“Mh?”  
“The formality. Just… just drop it,” and his voice trembles a bit, like the unsure step of a child on a land he doesn’t know. Eichi places the bottle over the table, and doesn’t move his glare away from Keito’s eyes. He leans a bit over him, looking at his surroundings before approaching a bit more, his right hand resting on Keito’s thigh.   
“As you wish, Keito.”  
And that makes the trick, apparently. Eichi thanks the Gods to be hidden from the rest of the club, away from his colleagues, because otherwise he wouldn’t know how to explain what happens between those words and the blink of his eyes. Keito’s lips are soft, against his - they taste of wine and cake, the one Eichi offered him to welcome his best client. He parts his lips just a bit, just to let the tip of his tongue out and taste them better.   
It feels like Heaven.  
Maybe he is a bit drunk, he thinks as he feels Keito’s hand tighten against his arm, his mouth wide open while he kisses him passionately. Eichi has never been kissed that way, touched that way, held so strong as if he might disappear in that very moment. He likes it. He likes Keito.   
Apparently, Keito likes him too.  
He should push him away, he knows it. Rules are strict into the club: clients are not allowed to touch the hosts, if not for a friendly hug, a brush of fingers. No kisses, nothing even slightly intimate. But he can’t. Eichi can’t really do it, not when Keito is pushing him against the couch and keeps kissing him, almost without breathing. It’s nice, too nice, and even if Eichi knows that they must stop, he closes his eyes and lets Keito do whatever pleases him. Because how could he say something to a man who’s kissing him so desperately? He smiles, before giving up to that hot, sweet mouth.   
It’s like Keito wants to eat him. And Eichi wouldn’t mind.  
It’s the small moan which escapes his mouth that brings Keito to the real world. He stops, moving from his lips with a wet, gentle sound, and his eyes are so watery, so shiny, that Eichi forgets how to breathe for a second. At least, until Keito speaks his words.  
“I need to know,” he whispers, more because he’s breathless than because he doesn’t want anyone to hear him, “I need to know… has anybody else-”  
“No.” Eichi heaves a sigh, raising a hand to brush gently Keito’s cheek. “No one is allowed to touch me. Not even you, and-” He takes Keito hands, brushing it with his thumb before bringing it between their bodies, there where he is melting the most, “and I wish you would.”  
Another soft moan, followed by a heavy gulp, and Keito is frozen. He lowers his gaze over that hand - Eichi can feel his grip tightening a bit, like he’s testing something, like he’s trying to grasp the feeling, grasp that warmth spreading over his body too fast.   
“I should-” Keito blabbers as he straightens out, face as red as a cherry - it’s almost worrying; it would be, if not for the situation they put themselves into. He brings that hand to his chest, watching it as if he was going to take fire, and Eichi looks at him and smiles like a child before his favourite toy. “I should go.”  
He just nods: he doesn’t want him to stay if he doesn’t feel comfortable. “As you wish, Hasumi-san.”

And for a moment, Eichi is sure that days will pass before his eyes would meet Keito’s again. And he’s still sure when he puts off his uniform and wears his own clothes, and waves goodbye to the few colleagues which are chitchatting before leaving, being embraced by the cold of a late night. And as he takes the first steps towards home, he wonders if he could ask his manager to give him Keito’s contacts - just his phone number would be fine, he knows it’s registered somewhere in their files. His thread of thoughts, however, is abruptly interrupted when he feels the grip of unknown fingers around his wrist, and his heart starts drumming hard on his chest.   
Thank God, he doesn’t need to worry.  
“I’m sorry,” and Keito’s voice is soft, just a snort, but it’s okay.   
“I thought you went home.”  
“... I’ve waited.”  
And Eichi would laugh, but after what happened inside the club he’s not sure it would be the best thing to do - especially when he feels his stomach doing a funny twist. So he just stares at Keito’s hand, holding his breath as if he’s waiting for a death sentence.  
What if he has gone too far? He probably will never know, because Keito tightens his grip around his small wrist and starts to walk away, dragging him down the streets enlightened by neon signs and advertising running on giant screens along the way.   
“H-Hasumi-san?” he tries to call, but it looks like he’s turned deaf. Or maybe he’s ignoring him.  
Maybe he really has gone too far. But it couldn’t be helped, because well.  
Because he would be the one to pay for at least one night stand with that man. He would pay to live his whole life by Keito’s side, fuck his work, fuck everything.  
He doesn’t resist Keito’s strength, not even when Eichi starts to see roads he has never walked down, not even when he doesn’t recognise where they are. Keito stops in front of a rust-coloured gate, and while he looks for the key he speaks again.  
“You said I couldn’t touch you during work, right?”  
He doesn’t need an answer, and those simple words make Eichi’s heart start to beat way too fast. His throat dries, as the keys on Keito’s hand clink against the gate. It creaks as it opens and welcome them, and Keito takes Eichi’s hand and guides him inside the little garden and then, inside his house.   
It’s tiny, at least judging from its _genkan_. Still, Eichi doesn’t see much of it, because his range of vision is suddenly covered by Keito’s face, and everything around him loses of importance.   
Ah.   
He likes Keito. He likes him since the first time they met, since when Keito visited the club for the first time and his face flushed in red meeting his eyes. He would be a liar if he didn’t admit he has dreamt of this moment for a long time, because he didn’t spend a day without thinking about how gentle Keito’s hand would be over his body. Their kiss is noisy, wet, tongues brushing and their breath already a mess. Eichi can feel his head spinning, because of excitement or lack of oxygen, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He lets Keito do as he pleases, he lets Keito devour him, hands running over the light fabric of his shirt and burning Eichi’s skin as he touches it.   
“Eichi,” he calls, and his voice is so quivering, so desperate that sounds sweet. Eichi cups his face, and then he closes his eyes and smiles.  
“I love you.”  
He said those words to Keito plenty of times, when they were together at the club, and he is sure Keito never believed them once - because it was work, because Eichi was paid for calling him love, to treat him like the most beloved man in the world - a bunch of beautiful lies he is forced to tell anyone pays him to. But now, now that they’re protected by the walls of Keito’s house, would he believe him?  
Would he believe his words?  
He can feel Keito’s hand pressing against his arm, fingers tightening around it as if there was something so precious it could be stolen in that very moment. Keito opens his eyes wide, his eyes wandering on Eichi’s face, and Eichi takes that moment to pull his face and kiss him again, soft at first, tongue licking and teeth biting. He sucks a bit, tastes Keito’s chapped lip, and when they part, he pronounces those words again.   
“I love you. It’s not a lie. It never was.” He wraps his arms around Keito’s neck, his forehead pressing against the other’s. “And my body, my heart, my whole self… you can take it all. You can take it all, if you want.”  
Keito’s cheeks redden, at that. Eichi knows he has taken the hint, there is no need to put it in words. He closes his eyes, long blonde eyelashes covering his bright blue eyes, and smiles.  
“You can take it all.”  
There is no trace of the rush, of the urgency ensued by the alcohol: Keito rests his head on Eichi’s shoulder, smells his scent, and Eichi feels blessed. Because there are no boundaries, there, no limits, and if Keito wants to take his time, he can take that as well, he won’t mind. It’s so sweet, the sound of kisses on his neck, that Eichi feels his legs trembling a bit - he didn’t think he was so weak to that man, that just a bunch of small kisses would have made him so lightheaded. Keito’s breath brushes his ear and Eichi loses it all, his hug tightening around Keito’s neck, his lips parted to give a small moan some freedom. He senses how Keito is affected by that sound, because he feels his shoulder stiffen a bit, but Eichi doesn’t have the time to think how cute he is because Keito makes another move, and it makes him melt.  
Keito’s teeth brush his lobe, and his tongue just barely touches it, but it’s enough to make Eichi’s stomach twist again and Lord, he’s really lost.   
Keito hasn’t answered, and still Eichi knows - he doesn’t need that man to put his feelings into words, because Keito never hid himself behind a faked attitude, because he put his true self into Eichi’s hand and trusted him. Eichi knows, he probably has always known, so it’s okay if they don’t share words of love, now.   
He just needs Keito’s hands over his body to raise the heat he feels inside, and soothe his heart.   
“Are you sure it’s-” Keito breathes on his ear, and he just nods.  
“I am,” he whispers, voice broken, and that’s enough.   
Keito is gentle, so careful, so devoted: he presses his lips everywhere on his neck, his face, while his fingers slowly unfasten the buttons of Eichi’s shirt. He traces a trail of kisses along his chest, stopping for a moment as if he were _tasting_ the sound of Eichi’s heartbeat against his lips.   
“It’s fast,” Eichi laughs, drowning a hand on Keito’s hair. He feels Keito’s lips bending in a smile against his body, and it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world.   
“So it’s mine.”  
He bites gently, where the skin turns darker and more sensitive; and Eichi trembles, discovering himself more weak that he had thought. But maybe it’s Keito’s fault, he thinks, maybe is because he loves him, that he can’t resist. He could bite him harder, he could scratch him, open his chest apart to see his heart beating for him - Eichi would be okay, if it was Keito.   
Eichi lets his head lean against the wall, and somehow still being on the _genkan_ makes him feel protected - he doesn’t like wide rooms very much, so that place is perfectly fine. Defined places makes him feel like he can take control over everything.   
And if Keito doesn’t mind bringing him somewhere else, why should him?  
He looks at him, looks at the best client - no, the best person he has ever met in that club, the only one that treated him well, always with care, as if Eichi was the one to be loved and praised the whole time. He looks at him bending his knees, his hands already on the crotch of his trousers, and Eichi stops him before he can reach the ground.  
“No,” and he shakes his head to underline his statement, hands on Keito’s shoulder to invite him to get up. “Don’t kneel, please,” and he can see the surprise on Keito’s eyes, but Eichi is not refusing him, not at all.  
He just wants something else, for today. He wants to feel that body pressed against his own, he wants to feel Keito everywhere, chest on chest, mouth on mouth. And he doesn’t know if Keito understands his implicit request, but still gets up, grasping on Eichi’s hips and returning to his eye level. Eichi smiles, hands pressing on Keito’s chest while blood is running too fast on his ears, making him eager for the very moment he will feel Keito with all his body _for real_.  
“Eat me,” he murmurs on his lips, before kissing them again - he will never get tired of that taste, of the salt that brushes the tip of his tongue and invades his whole mouth. Keito’s response is so fast, and so expected that Eichi would laugh, if he could.   
But he has taken Eichi by his words, apparently, because now Keito’s mouth is full opened on his neck, licking, biting, sucking as if he wanted to mark him - he doesn’t stay there for too long, though, because Keito is caring about him even when his mind is probably a mess. Meanwhile, their hands are too busy freeing themselves from the layers of fabric of the trousers dividing their bodies. And the sensation he feels, when Keito’s arousal finally brushes against his own, is delightful.   
They become a mess of hands and kisses, wet noises filling their ears, mixing with the rushing of blood. Eichi mimics Keito’s moves, to an extent - chest, stomach, neck, face, he doesn’t really know where to touch, his hands moving frantically on his body. The pleasure is so much he can’t take his eyes open, and for a moment he doesn’t even understand where Keito’s hands are, because in his mind, Keito is touching him everywhere at the same time. And when Keito asks for permission, he nods without even understanding what he means.   
He doesn’t until he feels something pressing between his thighs, pushing gently to intrude into his body. His hands clenches around Keito’s shoulders, teeth drowning in his skin and breaking it. He feels a jolt of pain running through his back and hitting his head, making it lighter.   
He likes it.  
“Keito-” he calls him, and his legs spread a bit, to make the other more comfortable, to help him through whatever he is doing. Eichi never allowed anyone to touch him like this - regardless of his job, he has always treated his body like a temple, something too sacred to be violated by the hands of those who claimed to love him just because he was paid to make them feel good.  
But Keito is different. Keito can take his whole self, if he wants, can bite and mark his skin, can claim his as his own property, as long as Eichi is allowed to love him.  
“I love you,” Keito says against his neck, and Eichi feels a knot building on his throat, as the man between his arms pushes another finger inside him and spreads him wide, and works him open.  
He wants to cry. Not for the pain, not for the strain affecting his body, no. For the first time, he feels like weeping for joy. And Keito repeating those words like a mantra doesn’t help him at all.   
He bites his lips, pushing himself against Keito’s body, and feeling like burning. He wonders if it's the same for him, he wonders if Keito has dreamt of this moment like he did, for how long, if he had desired it with the same longing. He wants to know, that and too many other things that it would probably take all the time in the world.  
Keito’s free hand brushes against his thigh, runs down the knee to lift his leg. “Hold onto me,” his gentle words brushes his red cheek like a caress, and Eichi does as he has been said. Keito’s hand stops working on him, and slides out of his body making him feel empty, but it doesn't takes long, before it lands under the other knee and lift his legs. And the moment his body pushes against Eichi, Eichi holds his breath, and awaits.  
It hurts, but it's enjoyable, in a way. It's the sweet pain of a knife piercing his chest and drowning on his heart, blood that pours down releasing his feelings for the man who’s claiming him. Each one of Keito’s moves is slow, delicate as the caress of a flower, but he can't avoid pain, and it's okay. “I'm fine,” and smiles as he says those words, because he means each one of them. And Keito still restrains himself at first, at least until he doesn't bury his whole on Eichi’s body. It burns, warm like the Sun, hot like lava, so hot to become almost unbearable.  
What comes after, Eichi is not sure he can describe it in words. He looks at Keito, looks at his face, and it’s like admiring a beautiful picture: his eyes are half closed, long black lashes throwing shades on his bright, green eyes - that touch of yellow around his pupils now shines like gold. He would laugh at his glasses, a bit off over his nose, but how could he, when Keito deepens his thrusts and tears him apart? Because that’s what he is doing, tearing him apart - his body, his mind, his heart.   
Keito calls his name, provoking another twist on his stomach, and their breath is a mess of moans and names, of wet, brief kisses given in a mild attempt to catch some air. Eichi entwines his legs around Keito’s waist, offering himself without restrain. He doesn’t care, if it’ll hurt later.   
He’ll look after that pain with care and love.  
When the rhythm gets frantic, when Keito looks at him with as if he was running out of air, Eichi knows that they’re almost there. He brushes Keito’s cheeks, brushes his lower lip with his thumb and says “go ahead,” before kissing him, and losing himself in the pumping of his heart, in the blissful numbness that invades his body and tenses his muscles.   
He’s experiencing Paradise.

His bedroom is small, tidy, and smells of incense, of wood and plum tree. Now that he thinks about it, it’s the scent he has always felt when near Keito - a scent that puts him at ease, that makes him feel good. He smiles, looking at their intertwined fingers, and thinks about how sad can be the whole world, when he has taken the brightest star among all the stars, and has made him his own. “Keito,” he calls, and he answer with a soft mutter, without opening his eyes. He’s listening, that’s enough. “I’m quitting. My job.”  
Keito opens his eyes and looks at him with worry. “You don’t have to.”  
“But I want.” He pulls Keito’s hand near his lips, and kisses each one of those precious fingers. “I’ve got to understand where my place is. And it’s not there.”  
Keito grumbles, his ears reddening. “Sleep,” and with a grumpy expression on his face he closes his eyes again, and pretends to fall asleep - as if he could.   
Eichi smiles, and kisses that hand again.   
He know where his place is, now. His heart is in safe hands.


End file.
